


Mind over Matter

by Missy_dee811



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Avengers Disassembled, Avengers Vol. 5 (2013), Dreams, Dreams and Nightmares, Dreams vs. Reality, Everyone Has Issues, Everyone Needs A Hug, Fix-It, Hopeful Ending, Infinity Gems, M/M, No Porn, No Smut, Non-Linear Narrative, Post-New Avengers #3, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, Steve Feels, Steve Rogers Feels, The Illuminati (Marvel), Time Skips, Time Travel Fix-It, Tony Feels, Tony Stark Feels, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-20
Updated: 2016-06-29
Packaged: 2018-06-09 13:22:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6908869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy_dee811/pseuds/Missy_dee811
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For a brief moment in time, Steve had the power of the universe in his grasp, and he squandered it. The Infinity Gems, with the exception of one, ceased to exist. The Illuminati's last attempt at circumventing the laws of the universe and stopping the incursions before they targeted Earth-616 were eliminated when the precious stones shattered.</p><p>But that wasn't the only thing that was broken that day. His faith in himself never recovered.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He opened his eyes slowly, taking in the sky above him, an iridescent blue. The sun, high in the sky, was blinding. There wasn’t a single cloud hovering above. He moved his arm to cover his eyes. He felt the soft wind on his skin, the faint hairs on his arm swaying. He turned his head to the side and felt the soft grass below his cheek.

He couldn’t help but smile.

Next to him, lying with his arms under his head, his eyes closed, and his long lashes barely touching his cheek, was Tony. He reached out for him and instinctively, he turned his head, and their blue eyes met.

“Where are we,” asked Steve, mildly curious. He could see Tony’s lips move just an inch into a slight smirk. “Wherever you want us to be. Whenever you want us to be.” He turned his head again, facing the sky above them. Steve knew to be wary of Tony’s cryptic answers and he let his frustration show. Tony must’ve sensed it, for he braced himself on his elbows, his hair, longer now than it had been, falling into his eyes. “It seems, regardless of what I do, I’m always going to disappoint you,” said Tony crestfallen. He started to stand.

Suddenly, the sky darkened and it started to rain.

“Was that you,” asked Steve, anger coloring his curiosity, rising to his knees. He reached out to touch Tony but he was gone and Steve, once again, was all alone.

He woke up.

 

*~*~*~*~*

 

“Bad dreams,” asked Tony from the doorway.

It took Steve a moment to ground himself. He was back at the Tower. It was late, well into the night by this point. Tony must’ve been on his way to bed after spending the evening and most of the night in his workshop. He must’ve heard Steve as he walked by.

He was wearing loose-fitting low-rise jeans. His crumpled white t-shirt had some grease stains. He ran a hand through his tousled hair. It was longer now than it had been, and fell into his eyes.

Steve nodded, “Something like that.” He shifted on the bed, using his pillow as back support, and reclined his head against the smooth headboard. He motioned for Tony to sit next to him, which he did. He kicked off his loafers, stretched out his legs, and crossed his feet at the ankles. Tony placed a hand on his shoulder and looked into his blue eyes, “Steve, what’s going on?”

“I should ask you that,” replied Steve. He wasn’t usually this cavalier. He didn’t make a habit of dodging questions, but a lifetime of fighting beside Tony Stark was starting to rub off on him. Tony smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. He shuffled with his hands in his lap. “You’re always more than welcome to come into my workshop, you know that. I came in because… Well, I was worried. I wasn’t expecting… Well, I didn’t come prepared with a write-up, Steve,” said Tony, defensively.

He started to get up but Steve placed a hand on his thigh.

It was casual, but there was an intimacy inherent in being so close to him, so vulnerable, so late at night.

Tony stopped moving. He didn’t comment on the hand on his thigh, he didn’t comment on the slight flush of Steve’s cheeks, he didn’t comment on the way his breathing hitched. He didn’t need to be a supersoldier to sense the slight changes in the room: the ambiance, the temperature.

_Was he dreaming?_

He turned his head.

Steve cupped his cheeks, “I promise you, if it was serious, I’d tell you, and even if it wasn’t, I’d tell you anyway.”

“I know, and that’s the problem,” said Tony and Steve turned away, dropping his hands into his lap. When he looked up again, he was gone.

 

He woke up, again.

 

*~*~*~*~*~

 

“So… This idea has been running through my mind. It’s overwhelming – all-consuming – and I can’t shut it off.”

Tony was sitting across from him drinking his umpteenth cup of coffee, which Steve had brought down with him.

They were in his workshop, which is where they spent most of their free time. Or rather, where Steve spent most of his free time, seeing as Tony hardly ever had free time, and even if he did, he’d migrate to the workshop anyway. Steve didn’t need as much sleep as did the others and Tony rarely, if ever, got a full night’s rest. If it wasn’t his heart, it was his thoughts, and if it wasn’t one of those two things, it was his bots.

“You know, it’s interesting… Seeing you like this. I’m usually the one bouncing around with an endless array of ideas that keep gnawing at me. I like this role reversal. Creativity is a good look on you, Rogers.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment,” said Steve. Tony laughed in response. He drained his mug and set it on the desk. Steve took another sip from his and smiled fondly. He reached for Tony’s hand, but at the last moment, shifted course, picking up the empty cup instead, as he stood.

Tony must’ve noticed the shift for he pursed his lips but didn’t say anything. He seemed to keep quieter nowadays, but that hadn’t been the case before. Maybe Tony had always guarded his words around Steve and he was only now beginning to notice. He pulled himself out of his reverie when he said, “I’ll take this upstairs. Do you want anything else?”

“Steve, where are you going? You haven’t finished telling me your brilliant idea and I’ve still got some schematics to sort through, I was hoping for your company,” replied Tony with an earnestness Steve rarely heard. He paused.

_Something wasn’t right._

Steve spun around, the two mugs still in his hands, and faced Tony, their blue eyes meeting. They were _too_ blue. Tony had always had darker blue eyes, the color of the ocean, far from land.

He was drifting. It was just like in the meadow. It was just like on the bed.

_This wasn’t real._

 

For the third time he woke up.

 

*~*~*~*~*~

 

“Okay… We can make this work,” said Steve. Tony nodded, “Of course. Of that, I have no doubt.”

“But you do have doubts,” asked Steve, reading between the lines. Tony smirked. 

“Yes, well, I have many doubts, Steve. You should know that better than anyone else should, at this point. But _us_ – I never doubt us.”

“So then, who,” asked Steve, doing his best to ignore the subtext, and moving to sit next to Tony, who was clicking away on the massive keyboard before him, entering functions, solving equations.

Steve had long since stopped trying to keep up with Tony’s mathematical prowess. He enjoyed keeping Tony company, enjoyed discussing the future with him – the futurist, always trying to stay at least one-step ahead: of his enemies, of the world, but most especially, of himself.

Tony looked away for a moment, and stared out the window, which overlooked New York. Dusk had fallen on the city. “Steve, despite what you – and the world – think of me, I’m not actually able to bend reality to my will.” He laughed, full-bodied and filled with mirth. It put Steve on edge. “I can’t control every single variable, every single outcome. Trust me, I’ve tried, Steve. It never ends well, for either of us. So, I don’t do that anymore…”

“Yes, but you did and I know you still have it in you to try again if you feel like that’s the only option, like it’s the only recourse you have left,” said Steve. He didn’t mean to sound patronizing, but there was that hint of frustration in his voice. He could clearly recall what Tony had said to him in a dream: _it seems, regardless of what I do, I’m always going to disappoint you_. The Tony before him now, who had stood and walked to the window, coffee in hand, was unable to meet his eyes. Emotions flashed across his face, lingering for just a fraction of a second. When he turned to face Steve again, Tony had composed himself.

“You want the truth? I don’t know anything about the truth. What I do know is that the world lies in peril – something dark and dangerous is in the air – something sinister is just out of reach. I think everything we believe – and this is coming from me – is going to be tested.”

He turned to face Steve, whose arms were crossed over his massive chest, his muscles bulging through his thin t-shirt. “Steve, I am asking you to trust me. I am asking for you to believe in me,” he took a deep breath, smoothing his shirt as he spoke, “I am asking you to have faith.” He walked up to Steve and put his hand on his shoulder, his neglected coffee mug in his other hand. “Please, Steve.”

“Tony,” said Steve, placing his hand on top of Tony’s, “I – I wish I could, but I – I can’t do that.” Tony moved so quickly, if Steve weren’t supersoldier, he wouldn’t have caught the way Tony shifted and retreated as if he had been slapped, as if the floor had dropped and sent him into free-fall.

_Maybe it had._

Tony, who was most at home among spies and soldiers, who from birth had been taught to put on disguises, who always kept a card up his sleeve, and was never afraid to roll the dice. Tony, who had given him a home, had given him a purpose, who had stood by him through everything that had ever happened on this planet, this galaxy, this universe. Tony, who had confided in Steve, who had grown to rely on him. Tony couldn’t bear to look at him, couldn’t bear to look at his reflection.

He put his hand on the window with his forehead leaning against his palm.

“Steve… Get out,” said Tony; it was equal parts plea and whimper. Steve grabbed his mug from the desk and walked out; he turned back, and saw Tony slumped against the window, having brought his knees to his chest. He heard, more than saw, the way his breathing had changed.

In the moment, he didn’t think much of it, but he’d look back and hate himself for leaving then, for judging then, when he didn’t know, when the world had been laid out before him, when he had had everything within his reach, and he let it crash and burn.

_It seems, regardless of what I do, I’m always going to disappoint you._

 

That rang true for Tony, but in the moment, it rang true for Steve too, he just didn’t know it. 


	2. Chapter 2

Before:

 

“And who wields it?”

“You do,” replied Tony without hesitation.

“Don’t you think it would be better for you, or Reed, or T’Challla…”

“No, Steve, this was your idea. The Gauntlet acts as an extension of will. You cannot make an idea real if you don’t first believe in it,” retorted Tony, pressing his gaze into Steve. The faceplate was up and Steve couldn’t see his eyes, just the bright blue of his suit, but he didn’t need to, he knew the intensity they conveyed.

Namor objected, but they overrode him, and Steve stood before the Illuminati and put on the glove, the power of the universe in the palm of his hand. The ability to change the very fabric of space-time within his grasp.

_Power. So much power._

So much power in the hands of a few but ultimately, they would be both powerless and defenseless, for the universe had already put into play a series of events that would culminate in their end, and the end of everything they had ever known. In those brief moments, while his arm was extended, and the gems shone brilliantly in the cold, thin air of the mountain, Steve saw what would happen, what would lie in store for him, for Tony, for the Illuminati, for the Avengers, everyone they had ever cared about, and everyone everywhere that had ever lived.

Time is a fickle thing and knowing about the future doesn’t change the past.

“Send it back,” screamed Tony but it was too late. Try as he may, Steve couldn’t do it. He didn’t believe enough. His faith was broken. Perhaps a younger Steve, one not as jaded, could’ve accomplished the task before him, but this… This and everything that would come thereafter… This would be his ultimate failure. He knew that for sure, had seen it as clear as the snow on which he stood.

As the others stood back, watching, waiting, thinking to themselves that they had achieved something great today, the tides turned, and before their very eyes, the gems shattered.

Mind.

Reality.

Power.

Space.

Soul.

The Time gem, however, it just disappeared.

*~*~*~*~*~

“Steve, we’ve been screaming at each other for hours now… I think it’s safe to go back inside. We can talk this through, like rational adults.” Tony was tired; he was still wearing his suit, but had taken the helmet off and was holding it under his arm, tucked into his side. His hair, longer now than it had been, was tousled.

“Tony, just go,” said Steve. He was tired, too, frustrated, and angry – mostly with himself, but Tony didn’t need to know that, nor did the rest of the Illuminati. He had seen what was at stake, had seen what was going to happen.

“Steve, I am asking you to trust me. I am asking you to believe in me,” said Tony, imploringly. His tiredness, and frustration with the situation at hand, had lowered his defenses, lowered his shields, and here he was, exposing himself the only way he knew how.

“I wish I could, Tony, but I can’t do that,” replied Steve, refusing to look at him, refusing to acknowledge the pain written on his weatherworn features. He looked out into the necropolis and heard, more than saw, the helmet click into place, and the heavy metal footsteps as Tony walked away.

At the last moment, Tony spoke through the suit. "It seems, regardless of what I do, I'm always going to disappoint you, Steve."

 

“Everyone’s ready to reconvene,” said T’Challa, standing where, only moments before, Tony had stood.

“It’s peaceful out here,” admitted Steve, still looking out into the necropolis below them.

“Necropolis is a city populated by spirits of noble warriors who never knew defeat,” said T’Challa, facing Steve, “It’s your kind of place.”

“We have to go. It’s time.”

Normally, Steve would try to make his case to T’Challa, much like Tony had when he came out to speak to him. This time, however, Steve knew what would happen. Instead of asking T’Challa if he would stand with him, Steve walked back into the meeting room, where the other Illuminati members were assembled waiting for their return.

He knew he had lied to Tony, who had asked him to believe in him, to have faith. Despite everything that had happened in their many years of friendship – through the many wars, both on earth and abroad – Tony had always done what he thought was best. They hadn’t necessarily agreed on that, but that fact couldn’t be overlooked.

Tony took matters into his own hands. Oftentimes choosing not to consult others. Steve was no stranger to that; it’s how the Civil War had started. Here he, about to step back into a room wherein his faith had been decided, knew this was just one more piece in the puzzle, one more cog in the machine, that he was just another pawn. Thus, he walked into the room and accepted his faith knowing he’d lose this battle, but he’d find a way – he’d trust Tony to find a way – to end this war.

His words etched into his memory: _it seems, regardless of what I do, I’m always going to disappoint you, Steve_.

 

"I believe we'll find a way to stop it. And we’ll do it without sacrificing who we’re supposed to be,” said Steve speaking to the men before him, who until recently, had met in secret without his knowledge, and who had decided the fate of the world on their own terms more than once. He knew what he needed to do, he knew what part he played in these affairs, but in the heat of the moment, it was difficult to separate fact from fiction, reality from dreams, and though he knew that mind over matter was of the utmost importance, he still couldn’t keep from expressing his views.

Namor retorted, with thinly concealed disgust – or was it pity – “What did you expect, Rogers? The preservation of your soul at the expense of everything we hold dear?”

“Slowly, one by one, you’ll convince yourselves it’s the lesser of two evils,” said Steve, whose unchecked temper was flaring, as he turned to look at Tony, “Isn’t that right brother?”

“Dammit Steve,” said Tony, exasperated, and Steve could only think of what he had told him on the balcony, when Tony turned to Stephen and said, “Do it.”

_I am asking you to trust me. I am asking you to believe in me._

 

 _Well, Tony, I’m asking you to do the same_ , he thought to himself as everything faded to black.


	3. Chapter 3

Steve was lying on the floor, a pounding migraine forming at his temples. He shielded his eyes from the light but he needn’t have bothered. The room was dark and despite its size, felt both cramped and damp. It all felt so familiar, as if this place carried some kind of significance. He felt more than heard the faceless, nameless shadows as they encroached on his space. Suddenly, he felt claustrophobic; as if he couldn’t get enough air. His heart was racing; the thumping audible to his enhanced hearing. He felt concussed.

One of the shadows spoke. Try as he might, he couldn’t hear. He just heard them leering and jeering; their words indiscernible but their meaning clear. They thought him both old and foolish: a man well past his prime. The sensation cut into him; a deep wound that would take much longer to heal than it should.

The blood running through his veins, throbbing against his skull.

He knelt with his head in his hands, wishing for the pain to go away, wishing to go back…

_Back to where?_

 

In a cold, feverish sweat, Steve woke up.

*~*~*~*~*~

“Space. The word should be enough to give any wise person pause, but all of you, everyone assembled in this room, represents the best chance we have of stopping this. I wish I could go with you,” said Tony, standing beside Steve, speaking through the helmet to the assembled Avengers.

“Iron Man’s job is staying behind to enact some contingency plans and marshal the world’s defenses in case we are unsuccessful. Our job is to make his unnecessary,” said Steve in his Captain America voice, supplying the troops with the necessary morale to carry them into the next fight, on a planet far from Earth.

“We leave in an hour,” said Steve, getting off the platform. Tony followed him, quietly. Descending the steps in quick succession, moving through the crowd seamlessly, never once taking his eyes off Steve, who knew he’d follow.

_Wasn’t that always the case? Didn’t Tony always follow?_

_No_ , his mind supplied, just moments later. Slowly, the images started cropping up – all those times Tony hadn’t followed and all the damage that had done.  _Best not to think of that now_ , he told himself. He walked down a deserted corridor, taking a quick peak behind him, and motioned for Tony to follow, leading him into a secluded room, one of many.

"I know how much you love space," said Steve, apologetically, once they were inside. He moved to sit at the head of the conference table, hoping Tony would follow his lead.

"I don't know what you're talking about," replied Tony, trying to play it off as if it didn’t matter, as if he weren’t worried, as if he weren’t scared for Steve, "It's overrated."

"No, it's not and neither are you," retorted Steve, rising from his seat and moving to stand face-to-face with Tony, who’s blue eyes bore into him. In those few seconds, Steve saw a myriad of emotions reflected across his face, in his tired eyes, and his soft lips. Something overcame him. Steve reached for his cheek, feeling the soft stubble under his fingertips, and pulled him closer. He watched as his eyes closed, his eyelashes touching his cheek, and kissed him.

Tony, who prided himself on his forethought, was taken aback briefly, before giving into the kiss. It may have been a few seconds, it may have been hours, but it certainly felt like years before they pulled away. Steve tried to memorize Tony's features: his dilated eyes, his kiss-swollen lips. He knew Tony was doing the same, for he reached out to touch his cheek, and whispered, "Be safe, Steve. Win."

 

It was only later, when Steve woke up, his face covered in sweat, his heart thumping, that he thought back to those stolen moments before he left for space, forever tainted by those faceless, nameless shadows that had haunted his dreams for weeks, but now...

He knew who they were and what they had done to him.

As always, the only one he could think of, the only one that mattered – _Tony_ – was the first name to escape him in a fit of rage-induced panic.

First, anger washed over him, full-bodied, thumping with heat; it engulfed him, overwhelmed him. He thought of his fist making contact with Tony’s cheek. How he’d stand in anticipation, waiting for the blow he knew he deserved. 

_Hadn’t they hurt each other enough?_

Then, sadness cascaded over him, a waterfall of emotions. All those nights they stood on the roof of their various homes, overlooking cities and whole worlds. A gale-force wind blew those memories away, leaving in their wake a barren wasteland.

Finally, as the bitterness started to settle in; a small, cool fire, enveloping him in a world of hurt, shielding him from the man he thought he knew so well; a man, who had sold his soul to the highest bidder.

It was then that a small stone appeared before him: orange and luminescent.

The Time Gem.

 _It’s impossible_ , he started to say but then the precious stone landed in his palm and all his memories, all the pieces of the puzzle suddenly fell into place, and he knew.

Knew what he had to do to make things right.

*~*~*~*~*~

 

Tony was pacing, his wrist bandaged. The bandage around his torso was visible under his V-neck shirt. 'Resilient' it said. He looked paler and slimmer than usual, with none of his usual bravado, as if the weight of the world bore into his shoulders, and he had finally started to succumb under the pressure. 

Tony was standing, his chin resting on his knuckles, his back to Black Swan as he spoke. "I have a problem." 

He turned to face her, and rubbing his temples, continued. "Actually, I have lots of problems. What I mean is, I have a certain shortcoming: an idea gets stuck in my head – a bug crawls in my ear – and it infects my thinking. It doesn't stop until it's consumed my entire mind. This thing – our thing – it's consumed me." He pointed at himself. His gaze boring into Black Swan, who sat by in her transparent prison, idly. 

"My problem is: I'm conflicted," said Tony, once again, resting his chin on his knuckles, muffling his words, still audible to Steve. "Part of me – the healthy, wise, emotionally stable part – wants to do exactly what I've promised... But I've got a bug in my ear, and I can't ignore what's sitting in front of me. So, I think it's come to this: I'm done playing with you. And I want answers." 

Tony lowered his hands and balled them into fists at his side.

Black Swan was sitting with her legs crossed and her eyes closed, not facing Tony. "Have you also considered that the problem – the real problem – is that you're simply in denial? That there are no other answers than the one hanging in the air. That there is no... Other solution."

Steve had known Tony long enough to see that he had reached his boiling point. 

"Here's what's going to happen next," he said, brimming with frustration and thinly-veiled anger, as he stalked closer to the enclosure. "We're going to deal with the upcoming incursion. Then, I'm going to talk to the others – do whatever it takes to convince them we need to bring in somebody who can dig around in your mind. Bypass all the games, all the lies, and get right to the truth."

Black Swan had stood and walked over to the edge of the glass and faced Tony, who was standing before her, his hands on his hips. She spoke. "The truth? I've never lied to any of you."

"Ever heard of lies of omission, Swan?"

"Yes. That's what all ignorant people call displays of their ignorance."

Just then, Reed came down the stairs, urgently calling for Tony, who diverted his attention. Steve didn't hear what he said; he was transported once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heavy dialogue from New Avengers #18.


	4. New Beginnings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Forgiveness is the final form of love.” – Reinold Niebuhr
> 
> Knowledge of Avengers Disassembled recommended but not required.

It was pouring. The rain pelted Tony, bouncing off the armor, as he walked across the landing pad of the helicarrier. He entered sub-basement level seven.

“Boys…”

“Sir,” responded the uniformed guards, in unison.

“Is he in there,” continued Tony.

“Yes sir,” they replied.

“Guess that’s good,” said Tony, to himself more than anyone else. He kept walking down the corridor as the men turned their heads and followed him with their eyes. Out of their sight, he cut off contact with the outside world with a simple command as he removed his helmet, holding it in his hands as he sat down. Exhaustion was clearly written on his weather-worn features.

To a silent Steve, watching from the shadows, Wakanda felt like so long ago. He had seen that look on his face then, too. _How often had Tony looked like that under the mask?_

Tony looked into his lap, his eyes glassy. “There’s a way to speak to soldiers. To rally them. And I – I don’t have it. I don’t have it.”

Recalibrating, he lifted his chin. “Okay, listen, that’s not what I came here to tell you. I – I came here to tell you why all this happened.”

In that moment, Steve wished he were anywhere but here. He wished he were hundreds of miles away, below the surface of the waves, enveloped in ice. _In a few days, you will be_ , his mind supplied _._

In that moment, he knew to when the Gem had transported him. He had never heard these words spoken. _Neither had anyone else, Tony made sure of that_. How he wished he could’ve and yet, listening to them now, knowing the man who spoke these words wasn’t the same man that had lied to him for months.

It broke something in him. Something he didn’t know could break. It was then that that tears started to fall.

He thought back to all those times Tony had shrugged, ducked his head, or waved off a comment, having gotten tired of reminding everyone he didn’t have those memories, and if had said or done those things, he couldn’t answer for them. He couldn’t offer a reason as to why. He, frankly, didn’t know. He couldn’t. It was just another casualty of the superhuman Civil War.

He wished he were back in Wakanda, overlooking the necropolis; T’Challa’s words burning into his soul: _necropolis is a city populated by spirits of noble warriors who never knew defeat_. _It’s your kind of place_.

He wished, desperately, to be anywhere but here when Tony spoke again. “The thing I can’t live with… has happened. And for all our back and forth – and all the things we’ve said and done to each other… For all the hard questions I’ve had to ask, all the terrible lies I’ve had to tell… There’s one thing that I’ll never be able to tell anyone now. Not my friends or my co-workers or my President. The one thing! The one thing I should have told you. But now I can’t…”

Steve’s palm started to overheat. _Goddamn, not now_. _Please, not now_ , he thought, as he wiped his eyes on his sleeve. He wanted to reach out and touch him. Wanted to tell him he wouldn’t be gone forever.

The Gem reappeared as he heard a broken Tony sob into his golden reflection, “It wasn’t worth it.”

 

 

He had stopped wiping the tears as he traveled through time. His breathing tempered, his glassy eyes, and reddened cheeks the only telltale signs of his emotional turmoil. Obscured from the cameras, Steve stood, listening to Tony give a speech he had, this time, been alive to hear. Only now, it was tainted by the future he had seen, the future he had lived. 

Before the press, Tony spoke. “I hate to apologize, but who doesn’t? Nobody wants to be wrong. Nobody wants to look weak. But sometimes a simple humbling gesture can change the course of your life.”

_It seems like I’m always going to disappoint you, Steve._

He stood transfixed as Tony continued speaking, hearing these words with a breath of fresh air. “I’ve always believed that a man should be able to experiment, to take chances, to fail, learn from that failure, and start over again.”

Steve thought back to a younger Tony, slightly older than the one before him, who was still learning the ins and outs of using and controlling Extremis. He thought back to the broken and beaten man he saw on the helicarrier. He thought back to the weathered look on Tony’s face as he slammed the faceplate down, leaving him to stand before the necropolis. He thought back to the man that had pleaded with Black Swan; her biting remarks scarring him in the way only words knew how.

“This is why I can no longer, in good conscience, juggle multiple identities, multiple careers, multiple agendas, and multiple responsibilities. The price of failure is too high.”

He saw, more than felt the bright stone as it fell into his palm. This time, he knew where he was going.

 

 

He opened his eyes slowly, taking in the iridescent blue sky above him. The sun, high in the sky, was blinding. There wasn’t a single cloud hovering above. He moved his arm to cover his eyes. The soft wind on his skin, the faint hairs on his arm swaying. He turned his head to the side and felt the soft grass below his cheek.

He couldn’t help but smile.

Next to him, lying with his arms under his head, his eyes closed, and his long lashes barely touching his cheek, was Tony. He reached out for him and instinctively, he turned his head, and their blue eyes met.

“Where are we,” asked Steve, mildly curious. He could see Tony’s lips move just an inch into a slight smirk. “The mansion,” replied Tony, looking at Steve, his curiosity piquing. “Where else would we be?” As soon as he spoke the words, he knew it to be true. He could see the wrought iron gates in the distance; he could see the windows on the upper floors.

“Tony, what was our best moment?”

“Best moment,” asked Tony surprised.

“Your opinion,” replied Steve.

“Best moment,” said Tony, stopping to think through a reply. “I think, for me… The best thing we ever did was getting together in the first place,” he said, wistfully. “I was so new to the armor and to the adventure, and when this team got together…  I said to myself: ‘ _This is worth doing_. _This is important_.’”

He turned his head again, facing the sky above them. He could hear the sounds of traffic in the distance. “I’ll be honest with you, Cap, for a while there… I didn’t think you were with me. You’re being rather nostalgic – more so than usual.” Steve shrugged it off but clearly it had bothered Tony, who refused to drop the subject, “Are you sure you’ve been here, on this planet, the whole time?”

Steve, who was propped up on his elbows, turned to Tony, who was rising to his knees, and said, “Well, that depends.”

“On what,” asked Tony, coy.

“What world am I waking up to?”

Tony reached for Steve, smiling as the other man took his hand, and replied, softly, in a faint whisper, just loud enough for his ears to pick up, ever so earnestly, in a way that was at once both vulnerable and courageous, “Ours.”

With his free hand, he reached out to touch Tony's cheek, their fingers intertwined, and leaned in to kiss him under the bright sun on a cloudless day.

 

This time, he didn’t wake up.

**Author's Note:**

> Please feel free to follow me on [Tumblr](http://viudanegraaa.tumblr.com).


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